


collision

by timelxdy



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F, One Shot, prepare for soft, thasmin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-13 06:47:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16887630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timelxdy/pseuds/timelxdy
Summary: Perhaps the Doctor simply has her days mixed up? She does have a time machine, after all. It must be fairly easy to get lost in the stars, Yaz considers, trying her utmost to ignore the niggling voice in her head which tells her to slip past the doors and never return.





	collision

**Author's Note:**

> dedicated to the humans of the thasmin discord <33333

The familiar hum and whirr sounds through Yasmin Khan's ears only mere hours after having been dropped back at her family home, much to her albeit  _pleasant_ surprise.  

Perhaps the Doctor simply has her days mixed up? She does have a time machine, after all. It must be fairly easy to get lost in the stars, Yaz considers, trying her utmost to ignore the niggling voice in her head which tells her to slip past the doors and never return.  

Curiosity - mixed with a faint deal of concern, brings her to the foot of the blue paneled wood, nerves bubbling to the surface when she reaches out a tentative hand to knock once, twice, three times over.  

Once she's received her usual chipper 'come on in, Yaz!' (she still doesn't understand how the Doctor knows it's her - she'd even tried switching up her patterns when knocking, to no avail) - Yaz ambles through the double doors and into the golden lights of the console room. They're dimmer than usual, a hint of crimson touching the crystal pillars, and the room is empty save for the blonde kneeling under the main component of the console, only just in sight.  

"Yaz! Good morning - afternoon - evening! I figured that was easier to say than guessing all the time -  _now_  I'm never going to be wrong!" 

"Well, I mean, technically -" 

"Anyway!" The blonde straightens up, and only  _then_  does Yasmin's mind start reeling the same way it does when the Doctor gives her one of those faraway looks.  

She's wearing a suit, a  _really very_ _form-fitting suit,_ with braces, white, crisp shirt and tapered trousers which hug all the right spots to leave Yaz's heart rate rocketing through the golden ceilings. There's a tie hanging loose around her neck, her sleeves are rolled up and the top few buttons of her shirt have been popped open. She assumes it's for comfort, but  _it's certainly not helping her situation._  

Enough so, she hasn't registered the last few minutes of the Doctor's ramblings, eyes busy finding someplace to settle which is both respectful and entirely innocent. 

There's a moment of pause before the Doctor's ears pick up on the quickening  _thud, thud, thud_  emanating from the woman poised at the console, seemingly lost in her own thoughts. Her eyes betray her instantly, making the blonde's head tilt in adorable confusion.  

"Hello? Yaz? Earth to Yaz? Y'with me?" She quips, waving a hand in front of her youthful, but currently slightly flushed features.  

"Hm? Yes. Sorry, did you say something?" 

"Honestly, you humans usually love to chatter. Everything okay?" There's a dash of concern in the question, blonde locks tumbling over her eyes when she reaches down to dust herself off.  

"Me? Fine. Proper fine." 

"Are you su-" 

"You're wearing different clothes." 

"Oh! You noticed? I just nipped back from one of Elton John's first record deal parties. That man is a  _genius_ , I'm telling you. Great cook, too. I should take you to meet him sometime; he loves a party. He picked this outfit for me, too. Y'like it?" Her tone is earnest, and her expression is soft and oh so innocent, Yaz can't help the grin which curves her lips. 

"It's good. I mean -- it suits you, I like it." 

"It suits me? Ha! You and your jokes, Yasmin Khan. Wait - look! It even has pockets!  _Pockets,_ Yaz!" 

If possible, the dark-haired woman's heart falls a little more in love with her.

"It does, yeah. Anyway, why're you back so early? You only dropped us off a few hours ago." Yaz notices the flash of something she can only describe as... loneliness? - cross her features as quick as it comes, leaning against the console while the blonde begins toying with a set of vibrant yellow buttons. She's not pressing them, simply ghosting her fingertips over the smooth metallic surface, finding its edges, then retreating to start a new journey. 

"Oh, y'know. Repairs to do." 

"Y'know that won't work on me, Doctor. What's wrong?" 

"Oh, Yaz. Nothing's  _wrong_. Nothing's ever wrong when you're here, huh?" She chirps, giving her one of those godawful grins which makes Yaz forget how words are formed to string a sentence together. 

"I just hate waitin', that's all. Never been good at it. Probably never will be." Again, she starts fiddling and toying with anything in reach. 

"Well, I'm here now, aren't I? D'you reckon we could sneak off for a quick trip before the others spot the TARDIS?" 

There's a hint of contemplation to her features before instinct takes over and she offers up a mischievous grin. 

"Yaz and the Doctor? Flying solo? Amazin'. Anywhere specific in mind?" 

"A few trips ago, you mentioned witnessing the birth of a star. Do you reckon - do you reckon you could show me?" She queries, a hint of  _something else_  behind her words which the Doctor can't quite decipher.  

She takes her word for it, though, skidding into place to throw a lever into position and start the ship's engines up. Within seconds, they're in flight, so Yaz grasps onto the console at her side. They share an enthusiastic grin as the floor trembles and the engines roar to life beneath their feet.  

"To the stars, it is!" 

If anything, the Doctor's renowned piloting is a lot smoother than usual, in that Yaz doesn't, in fact, find herself flung to the floor this time around. Internally, she hopes it's on purpose, a suggestion that the alien does, indeed, hold at  _least_ a soft spot for her. That's enough, she decides, even if the alien running and skipping and skidding around the console happens to be  _far_  too distracting in that dark suit.  

She makes a pact with herself that, if she is to find it in the ship's vast wardrobe, she  _sure as hell_ will hide it, if only to keep her from turning back into a teenage boy.  

"And here we are! You asked for the birth of a star, Yasmin Khan, but I raise you; the birth of a  _whole_  constellation, all at once. Not possible, you say? Well, anything's possible with a telescope and a whole box of custard creams. C'mon! We better be quick, or we'll miss it!" 

And so, this is how Yasmin Khan, a human from a planet millennium in the future, finds herself perched in the doorway of a time machine, facing the most beautiful sight of all; the reflection of a constellation dancing across the Doctor's hazel eyes. She's sat snugly beside her, features open and transparent in a way only witnessing something so magnificent and wondrous as space could allow.  

"Isn't it just  _gorgeous_? You, Yasmin Khan, are full of good suggestions. I've forgotten what it feels like to just sit and watch as a whole new world begins."  

"You're right. It's almost... bewitching. Like, you just want to reach out and touch it, but you know it'll burn." Her gaze, however, hasn't averted from the Doctor's features, taking in each and every detail under the soft orange glow of rocks moulding together and breaking and burning and moulding together anew.  

It's unclear if the blonde has noticed Yasmin's diversion, but she turns her head to catch her gaze when she mulls her words over, meeting her eyes with a similar affection dancing in her pupils. Her voice is small, words well-thought out but also unfamiliar.  

"It doesn't always burn, you know?" 

Brown eyes catch hazel, a look of mutual understanding crossing briefly - but long enough, between them.  

"I can't promise it won't hurt, but, oh, who gives a damn, Yasmin Khan? Who gives a damn about playing it safe?" 

There's a short moment of hesitation and doubt and a pair of firmly consenting looks before the Doctor leans in, closing the distance between them to press a kiss so tentative, so gentle and so tender to her lips.  

It's enough to burn and birth constellations, beginning a collision course set for a whole new universe of worlds.  

Yasmin Khan, a human from the planet Earth, has never, ever, fallen so gracefully.  


End file.
